Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 22. A Family Visit

‘Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?’ J’rud sounded cheerful as he slid down from Zurinth. Threadfall over Benden Hold had been light. There were just a handful of casualties and no fatalities. An air of relief hung over the Weyr; the Benden riders had recovered their confidence and even though everyone in R’feem’s Wing knew that was just how it went sometimes, they were still glad to have got through another easy one.

‘Not too bad at all,’ D’gar agreed. Any sign of Rioth yet? he asked Herebeth.

After a couple of seconds he had the reply. They are checking for burrows in the vineyards.

That horrible story about the Holder’s son sprang instantly to mind. He’d not known the Queens’ Wing would be on ground duty today. Tell Rioth to make sure H’rek keeps a line attached if he’s anywhere near a burrow. Images flashed through his mind; Kylara turning her flamethrower on H’rek, F’drun pushing him into a roiling mass of Thread. No, no, no.

Herebeth caught the tail end of it. Do not worry. Rioth will look after him. And Ramoth is with them, not Prideth. Ryth and his rider are both here, at the Weyr.

Thank you. There were times when a dragon’s good sense brought you back to reality; unlike a human, they weren’t troubled by wild imaginings or worries about what might happen.

‘Well done.’ R’feem patted him on the back as he passed. ‘You both flew a good Fall today.’

‘Thanks.’

D’gar was already relaxing in the bathing pool by the time H’rek returned. He sat on the bed to pull off his muddy boots.

‘Hope you didn’t trail that all through the weyr.’ D’gar swam over and leaned on the side of the pool, watching him. ‘Had a good Fall?’

‘I hate ground crew duties.’ H’rek had got his left boot off but was struggling with the right one.

‘You and most everyone else.’ Still, he was back in one piece and that was what counted. ‘That’s why we take it in turns.’

‘Rioth flamed a load of Thread, though. Lessa was pleased with us.’

‘Good.’

Hopefully she’ll put in a good word for me with N’ton, when they finally get round to giving him a Wing.’ H’rek finally pulled the right boot off, at the expense of getting mud all over his hands. ‘Shards!’

D’gar threw a towel to him. ‘They’ll be pushing it to have enough dragons spare to form another Wing, now that Southern Weyr’s starting up again. More like you’ll all just get dispersed around the existing Wings.’ Even that wouldn’t happen until there were more weyrlings to take their place delivering firestone but H’rek already knew that and it would only irritate him to hear it yet again.

H’rek wiped his hands, then started to take off his clothes. ‘Maybe they’ll send Prideth’s clutch back a few Turns like they did with us.’

‘Maybe.’ He didn’t think they would, though. There was no real need for timing it now and anyway, where would they send them? They’d have to go a lot further back, or set up yet another Weyr in a different location so people wouldn’t end up bumping into each other in the past. ‘I bet you Ramoth will rise again soon. If she lays, say another thirty eggs on top of Prideth’s, the numbers will soon go up.’

‘Ramoth laid forty-one last time.’

He was impressed. ‘Good for her.’ Clutches that size had been rare at Fort, probably due to the fact that they had been coming close to the end of the Pass, when egg production might be expected to diminish. From perusing old records, D’gar knew larger clutches were not just triggered by long mating flights, but also the proximity of the Red Star to Pern; gold dragons began rising frequently and laying more eggs ten Turns or so before Thread began to fall. He moved over to let H’rek join him in the pool.

H’rek dunked his head under the water and swam across to grab a handful of sweetsand. ‘Kylara was in a bad mood today,’ he commented as he lathered up his hair. ‘Ordering folk around and such like. Nearly snapped my head off when I didn’t hand up her flamethrower quickly enough.’

D’gar had already told him about the incident he’d witnessed between Kylara and F’drun the previous day. ‘Are you surprised at that? She didn't get her own way. It’s how spoilt brats like her react.’

‘Lessa told her off again, too.’

‘Doubtless that made her mood even sweeter.’

‘It makes me wonder, sometimes. How someone like her - or like F’drun - even get to Impress a dragon in the first place. All the Teaching Ballads seem to imply that dragonriders are the best of people.’

‘I know. But you’ve been at the Weyr long enough now to know that’s not always the case. Just like anyone else, dragonriders can be greedy, jealous or downright nasty. Impressing a dragon doesn’t necessarily make you a better person. A lot of it’s down to being in the right place at the right time.’ Thinking of Impression always reminded him of that wonderful day when a tiny brown dragon had called out into his mind on Fort Weyr’s Hatching Sands. Having a dragon changed you in subtle ways but your basic personality didn’t alter much.

Judging from H’rek’s expression, he too was remembering the day he Impressed Rioth. ‘I was so worried none of the dragons would pick me. I’d already stood for Ramoth’s clutch and failed.’

‘Not everyone Impresses on their first try. Some of the lads at Fort were put to the egg three, four times before they succeeded. It just means your dragon’s not hatched yet, that’s all’

‘Did you Impress first time?’

‘Second.’ Although, the first time he’d not tried too hard. There had been a lot more candidates than eggs so he’d simply stood well back and shut his mind off. Not because he didn’t want to Impress at all, just not that day. S’brin - Serebrin as he was then - had been ill with a fever, confined to the infirmary. They’d both wanted to Impress at the same time, so he’d done all he could to make sure that was what happened. And it had all come right, because the second time around Herebeth and Zemianth had hatched and found their riders.

‘Does it ever happen that a dragon can’t find the right person to Impress?’

‘It does, according to the records. That’s why they always make sure to have plenty of candidates, so the hatchlings have a good choice.’ He realised suddenly that both times H’rek had attended a Hatching, he’d been down on the Sands. It all seemed to happen so fast when that was the case. You didn’t appreciate how amazing it was until you’d watched the process from the stands a few times. ‘Some dragons break their shell and go straight for one person. Others take their time looking around before they make up their minds.’

H’rek rinsed his hair then shook the water away. ‘Rioth was like that. I was concentrating on this particular egg that was starting to crack and she sneaked up on me and knocked me over.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘How did it go for you?’

‘It was a small clutch. Just twelve eggs.’ There’d been that nagging worry he’d not succeed this time, or that one of them would Impress and the other be left standing. ‘It was Kadoth’s last clutch, as it happened. She was getting fairly old by then and didn’t rise often.’ Kadoth had been a placid dragon; not at all like Loranth, who always hissed and lashed her tail around, thoroughly scaring the candidates before she’d finally allow them near her precious eggs. ‘I actually saw Herebeth break his shell, but I didn’t think he’d go for me. The odds were on me Impressing a green.’

‘Really? Why?’ H’rek sounded surprised.

‘A lot of my friends were green riders. Plus, I was already in a relationship with Serebrin. They were convinced he’d get a blue. Anyway, I was watching the eggs rocking and cracking and trying to think happy, welcoming thoughts while Herebeth was taking a good look at everyone on the Sands. Then he finally decided I was the one. A few folk lost good marks on that Hatching.’ He’d been so overwhelmed by the experience that he’d not even seen Serebrin Impress Zemianth.

H’rek swam across. ‘I’m very glad Herebeth chose you. And that Rioth picked me. Otherwise, we might never have met.’

D’gar kissed him. ‘I know.’ Life was strange like that. There were so many possibilities every day, so many choices made by people or by fate that could lead to one or the other set of events. ‘You know I promised my mum I’d take you to Fort to meet her. Maybe we should do that tomorrow. We could even drop in on your folk.’

H’rek made a face. ‘I’m not sure that would be a good idea.’

‘Why not? Have you even seen them since you went off on Search?’

‘No. That’s the problem. For them, that was just a few months ago. I’m nearly two Turns older. How am I going to explain that away?’

D’gar considered for a moment. ‘You could try the truth. They must already have heard about all the Weyrs coming forward in time. Or I could tell them, if you wanted.’

‘You’d come with me?’

‘Of course.’ He smiled. ‘You can introduce me as your four hundred and twenty-three Turn old boyfriend.’

H’rek pushed him. ‘Oh, you! The boyfriend part is bad enough. They already think the worst about what goes on at the Weyr.’

‘They’ll be proud of you. Not everyone Impresses, after all.’

‘I don’t know.’ He sounded doubtful.

‘You should let them know you’re all right anyway. They must be worrying about you. Especially with Threadfall.’

‘I suppose,’ he said reluctantly.

D’gar suspected that H’rek’s family would change their tune once they saw him with Rioth. Surely anyone’s parents would be glad that their son had Impressed a dragon. Agarra had been overjoyed. She’d hugged both of them; D’gar and Herebeth.

‘All right. But can we get it over with first, so I can enjoy the visit to Fort Weyr?’

‘Whatever you want.’

The following morning, as promised, he held the first fitness session with the Wing, being sure to ask beforehand if anyone had any injuries that might cause problems. There was no way he was going to make the same stupid mistakes F’drun had. He took it slowly; he was nowhere near as fit as he’d been when S’brin was alive and always nagging him to join in with some form of exercise. The dragons watched with interest before ferrying their exhausted riders back for breakfast.

‘That wasn’t so bad,’ B’lin said. ‘You’ve got a knack for this sort of thing.’

‘That’s because my former weyrmate was a fitness fanatic.’

‘Shells, yes,’ G’reden broke in. ‘Those two were up at dawn very morning, running round the Bowl, lifting weights, all sorts. Whatever the weather, too. The only thing that stopped them was an early Fall.’

‘I didn’t much like it in bad weather,’ D’gar admitted. ‘I used to leave him to it, but he always made me feel guilty for not joining in.’ A couple of months ago, even those memories would have been painful but now he found he could think about S’brin and the life they’d had together without the grief overshadowing everything else.

He spent the rest of the morning catching up with admin from the last Threadfall, cleaning Herebeth’s straps and tidying up the weyr. H’rek and Rioth were off with the other youngsters from Prideth’s clutch; they had some assessments going on. He skipped lunch, opting for a few biscuits and hot klah sent up to the weyr. Even if H’rek’s family didn’t force a meal on them both (and what mother wasn’t always ready with a plate of food) then Agarra certainly would.

H’rek got back just after lunch, when D’gar was lying down having a nap. Exercising had made him tired.

‘Do you really think it’s a good idea to visit my folks?’ He sat on the edge of the bed, a glum expression on his face.

‘Definitely. Look, I know you said you never got on with your father…’ Who wasn’t actually his father, if the story was true. ‘But you really should visit, if only to let them know you’re alive and well.’

‘I know. It feels weird, though. All the time that’s passed for me. I keep thinking they’ll have forgotten me, that my little sister will be grown up, my brother married off.’

D’gar couldn’t help but wonder if he’d left under a cloud. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me? Did you get some girl pregnant?’

‘Shards, no!’

‘Seduce some boy, then?’

‘Not that either.’

‘Well, nothing to worry about, then.’

‘Just…’ he started to speak, then tailed off abruptly.

‘What?’

‘Just don’t go putting your arm around me in front of them, or anything like that.’

‘Can I call you darling? Or sweetie?’

‘No!’ He sounded horrified.

D’gar found it amusing. ‘So why am I there with you, then?’

‘You’re my Wingsecond, making sure I get there and back safely.’ He’d obviously thought it through. ‘And you can say you’re visiting your mother at Fort Weyr. They’ll understand that.’

‘Well, all right, then. I’ll let you do do all the talking.’

It was always a pleasure to fly with H’rek and Rioth, even if they weren’t doing any aerobatics today. Herebeth got his co-ordinates from Rioth and they emerged from between over lush farmland typical of the Southern Boll region. The balmy climate made for a long growing season with a wide variety of crops. It still looked different than in his memory; he didn’t think this particular farm hold had existed four hundred Turns ago. They descended in a slow spiral so as not to frighten the herd beasts grazing close to the farm and its outbuildings. Tiny figures far below looked up as they spotted the pair of dragons.

They landed next to the stone built house which was sensibly sited against a rocky hillside, the area around it scoured clean of greenery. A few people watched from a cautious distance. Well, they’d not have been expecting the visit. Maybe they thought the greedy dragonriders were here on Search again and wanted to take more of their children.

D’gar let H’rek take the lead. It was his family, after all. It was obvious that they didn’t recognise him right away. It was only when he pulled off the flying cap to reveal his bright blond hair that a woman - who must surely be his mother - broke away from all the others, running to meet him.

‘Hinnarek!’ She hugged him tightly, then stood back to get a better view. ‘You’ve grown. You look so different. What have they been feeding you?’

‘It’s H’rek now, mother,’ he corrected. ‘Here’s my dragon, Rioth. And this…’ he gestured toward D’gar, ‘Is one of our Wingseconds.’

D’gar took the opportunity to step forward. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m D’gar, rider of brown Herebeth, from Fort Weyr.’

‘Fort, you say.’ A middle aged man spoke, suspicion in his tone. ‘Thought he was at Benden Weyr.’

‘He is. So am I. Seconded from Fort.’

‘Well I never,’ H’rek’s mother said. ‘Are you one of those folk who travelled through time?’

D’gar smiled briefly. ‘That’s correct.’

‘Well, you’d best come on inside. Will your dragons be all right out here?’

‘They aren’t going to eat any of our stock, are they?’ the man asked, casting a wary glance toward the pair.

‘No,’ H’rek answered shortly. ‘They’ve fed recently. They won’t need to eat again for a few days.’

It all seemed very formal, very stilted. D’gar wondered if this was the way H’rek’s family normally behaved. It was very different from the Weyr.

Inside the house, with the Threadfall shutters fully open, it felt light and airy. They sat around the scrubbed wooden table and H’rek’s mother brought klah. ‘It’s lovely to see you,’ she said, placing H’rek’s mug down. She was clearly pleased to see him again, although she seemed nervous, glancing toward the man who must be her husband. He sat on the edge of a chair, as if he couldn’t wait to get away. D’gar began to realise why H’rek hadn’t been too keen to come back.

‘Well, I thought I should visit. Let you know I’m all right.’

‘I’m sure they’d have informed me if you weren’t,’ the man snapped. His gaze flicked toward D’gar. ‘Fort Weyr, hmm. You can tell them from me I’m not happy with all their demands.’

H’rek looked deeply uncomfortable, but said nothing.

‘I’m afraid I don’t have any jurisdiction at Fort. You’d best ask to speak to the Weyrleader if there are problems.’

‘As if that will make any difference. You dragonriders are all the same.’ The chair scraped the floor as he abruptly pushed it back. ‘Now, if you don’t mind I need to get out to the fields and do some work. Can’t go wasting the day like some.’ As he turned to leave, he barked an order at the other folk. ’And the rest of you can get to your tasks as well.’ They trailed out, silently.

An awkward silence prevailed. H’rek’s mother broke it. ‘Please excuse my husband,’ she said to D’gar. ‘He has a lot on his mind at the moment. He didn’t mean any offence.’

D’gar thought that was exactly what the man had intended, but it wasn’t the poor woman’s fault she’d married a miserable sod. ‘None taken. I understand it must be difficult for you, with Thread returning after so long.’

She gave a little smile. ‘I’m afraid he was one of those who thought it had gone for good.’

‘Ah.’

‘It suited him to support that theory,’ H’rek put in. ‘Whether he believed it or not is another thing.’

‘Hin… H’rek. There’s no need for that. Your father -‘

‘He isn’t though, is he?’

It was D’gar’s turn to wish he could go between to escape. He raised the mug of klah, more to hide behind than because he was actually thirsty. Although it was a good brew.

‘Isn’t what?’

‘My father.’

‘Er, excuse me. I should go and check on the dragons.’ Both H’rek and his mother turned to look at him. ‘Well, if you’ve personal things to discuss…’

‘You already know what I’m talking about.’

That was true. ‘Yes, but…’ He’d no wish to hear long kept secrets being brought into the open. ‘This is a family matter.’

H’rek glanced quickly at him. ‘You are family. Well, to me, anyway.’

D’gar caught the sharper look from H’rek’s mother at that. She obviously wasn’t stupid.

‘I overheard you both arguing,’ H’rek went on in a very even, dispassionate tone. ‘I know what happened and I know he’s not my father. It made sense of a lot of things.’

‘It wasn’t… we didn’t mean for you to hear.’ Her face crumpled. She sat at the table, gripping its edge as if it was all that kept her from sinking into a Thread burrow or something equally as treacherous.

‘It’s true, though?’

She bit her lip. ‘Yes,’ she said, finally, in a small voice.

The silence stretched out. D’gar wished H’rek would go and comfort his mother, or say something. Shells, he felt like saying something, if only to break the tension.

‘Well, that was all really,’ H’rek said. ‘I’ll be off and not bother you again.’ He stood. ‘Come on. We’re going,’ he said to D’gar.

D’gar spoke up. ’You can’t just leave. You might have had a few Turns to think about this, but your mother hasn’t.’

H’rek ignored him and continued to address her. ‘I’m glad I got Searched that day. He was right about one thing. The Weyr’s the best place for folk like me.’ He looked at D’gar then. ‘Like us.’

It was as if he’d decided to burn all his bridges at once. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. D’gar watched him stride to the door before he got to his feet too. He turned to H’rek’s mother, gave her an apologetic smile and followed. By the time he reached the door, H’rek was half way across the courtyard towards his dragon.

‘Please…’ H’rek’s mother stopped him. There was a stricken expression on her face.

A couple of youngsters ran across to H’rek. A small girl with long blond hair, who must surely be his sister, hugged him. Rioth leaned over them all, like a protective guardian. D’gar thought he should give them all some time together and try to reassure H’rek’s mother.

‘I’m sorry about this,’ he said. ‘It’s my fault, really. It was my idea he should come back here. I didn’t realise things were so difficult at home.’

‘Does he… does he talk about us?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘And is he happy?’

‘Yes. I think so.’

‘Well…’ she said. ‘If he wants to, tell him he can visit again any time.’

‘Of course.’

‘And… look after him.’

D’gar smiled. ‘I’ll always do that.’ He squeezed her arm gently.

Is everything all right? Herebeth asked. Rioth says H’rek is upset.

That was a first. Dragons rarely named anyone directly. It’s family stuff. Complicated.

Are we going to Fort Weyr soon?

Yes.

Good. I do not like it here.

He could obviously feel the strong emotions roiling around. D’gar strolled over. Close up, he could see the family resemblance between H’rek and his siblings. Thankfully, he seemed more at ease with them than he had in the house and they appeared to be equally pleased to see him again. He gave them some space, leaning against Herebeth’s sun-warmed hide as they chatted eagerly. H’rek’s mother still stood in the doorway. Evidently she wanted to look at her son for as long as she could, even if there was to be no other communication between them.

‘So, are they going to burn stuff, like those other dragons did?’ A younger version of H’rek asked him the question.

‘Only if they chew firestone. And we don’t have any with us today.’ Maybe the lad had been on ground crew duty and had seen dragons flaming Thread.

‘They burned Uncle Hivall’s orchard.’

‘Oh? Had Thread burrowed?’

‘No, they just burned it ‘cos he wouldn’t let them take his herdbeasts. Then the dragons ate three of them anyway.’

D’gar thought that if they’d done that, the Holder had probably deserved it. Although flaming an entire orchard seemed rather extreme. Maybe the lad was exaggerating. ‘Dragons have to eat,’ he said, flatly.

‘Are your dragons going to eat our beasts?’

‘They aren’t hungry right now.’

‘Stop pestering him, Hinnergal.’ H’rek said. ‘Or his dragon might eat you.’

The lad stepped back a pace. ‘Dragons don’t eat people,’ he said, although there was an edge of doubt in his voice.

‘If they ate you, they’d probably get sick.’ The blond girl said scornfully. She was close enough to Rioth’s foreleg to reach out and touch, showing off her bravery. ‘Oh. It’s warm.’ She sounded surprised.

‘Dragons are. Especially when they’ve been in the sun. And Rioth’s a she, not an “it”.’ H’rek told her, although not ungently.

‘Rioth,’ she said, trying out the name. She looked at D’gar. ‘So what’s your dragon called?’

‘His name is Herebeth.’

She stepped back to take in the two dragons. ‘Do they like each other?’

H’rek smiled. ‘Yes.’

She seemed to consider that for a moment. ‘Do they mate, just like herdbeasts?’

‘Hamarra. You shouldn’t ask such things.’ H’rek said quickly.

‘Not quite like herd beasts,’ D’gar told her, matter of factly. ‘They mate while they’re flying.’

‘So…’ Hamarra frowned. ‘Will Rioth lay eggs?’

‘Er, no. Green dragons don’t. Gold dragons lay the eggs.’ D’gar stole a glance at H’rek, who was looking slightly embarrassed. Holdbred folk were odd, he thought. If H’rek’s sister knew about herdbeasts mating - and why shouldn’t she, living on a farm hold - then she was old enough to know about other creatures breeding habits.

Emboldened by Hamarra’s move, a couple of the other children dared to touch Rioth as well. She looked at them solemnly, her eyes whirling a placid blue-green. Herebeth seemed to have settled, although he still radiated wariness.

D’gar thought it best to change the subject, to spare H’rek any further blushes. Even though he looked quite cute when he blushed. ‘Can any of you tell me the other dragon colours?’

‘That’s easy,’ said the boy, Hinnergal. ‘There’s gold and bronze, brown, blue and green.’

‘Well, you’ve seen two of those now.’

‘Three,’ said Hamarra. ‘The dragon that came on Search was blue. And there was a brown one too, but he was a lighter colour than Herebeth.’

‘They do vary a bit, just like people. Or herdbeasts.’

‘Hey!’ A loud yell made all the youngsters look up. H’rek’s not-father had emerged from a barn, leading a pair of heavily built runner beasts harnessed to a cart. ‘I’ll have no shirking round here. Leave those dragons alone and get to work.’

Reluctantly, they obeyed. Hamarra stayed the longest. ‘When will you come back and see us again?’ she asked plaintively.

H’rek looked at his feet. ‘We aren’t allowed to leave the Weyr that often.’

‘But you’ll come back whenever you can?’

He nodded briefly, then watched her as she ran across the yard and jumped into the back of the cart to join her siblings. She kept her eyes on the dragons for as long as she could, until the cart turned a corner and passed out of sight.

H’rek sighed. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said.